Smoking Gun
by Zet Sway
Summary: Shepard didn't know where Thane acquired his hardware and frankly she didn't want to know, but he was adamant about becoming comfortable with his new weapon before using it in the field. He'd said something about his gun being an extension of himself or whatever... she hadn't really been listening. She had other things on her mind. Thane/FShep. Oneshot.


Prompt: Oral pleasure.

Mass Effect and all associated characters belong to Bioware. I make no money from this fanfiction.

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There was really no need for shooting ranges, Shepard thought.

If you needed to practice your aim, why not set up your own targets? Fire some shots at empty rations containers out an airlock, maybe. Find some mercs and put a few holes in their armor. There were plenty of other places to shoot things besides a shooting range.

There were times, however, that she had to admit that sometimes, even in her line of work, that there wasn't anything to try out your new gun on except some old fashioned paper targets.

And so she found herself at the Spectre shooting range on the Citadel. Only it wasn't her gun that needed trying out, it was his.

Shepard didn't know where Thane acquired his hardware and frankly she didn't want to know, but he was adamant about becoming comfortable with his new weapon before using it in the field. He'd said something about his gun being an extension of himself or whatever... she hadn't really been listening. She had other things on her mind.

She leaned against the back wall, watching him put one hole after another into a target impossibly far away. Thane was a stellar marksman, one of the best she'd ever known. His sniping skills weren't quite as good as his pistol skills, she thought, but it really didn't matter because he was lethal with any weapon - or without.

But he would miss, she thought, if he had something particularly distracting to deal with. Something he hadn't encountered in the field before. In her boredom, she decided she needed to see how much it would take to thwart his perfect aim.

Stepping up behind him, she gently put her palms on his shoulders. Without his coat to stop her wandering hands, she ran them lightly down his arms.

"Don't stop," she breathed into his neck, kissing him softly. He indicated no response, but she knew he'd heard her.

Shepard made her way down his body, palming him through his pants. The nature of his anatomy kept her from outright stroking him into arousal, but she'd learned over the course of their relationship that the right touch here and a kiss there would coax his body to react the way she wanted. She placed a kiss on his neck, right at the line where his scales met the red ribbing of his throat, and followed the path of that line with her tongue until she met the base of his fringe. He remained focused, indifferent.

Beneath her hand, however, she felt his body stir. She pressed herself firmly against his back, willing him to feel her warmth and desire.

"Thane," she murmured against his neck. Full lips dragged along his scales while she firmly palmed his hardness through his pants. For a moment, she swore she felt him sigh.

Still, he said nothing, unmoving with the butt of his rifle pressed into his shoulder while he patiently ticked away at the targets downrange. Such was his concentration that she wondered if he was reliving another memory of target practice from his past.

Still, Shepard refused to be deterred. She smoothed her hands up his torso, sliding them over his chest in a slow, deliberate motion before settling them at his hips. She sank to knees and repositioned herself in front of him, looking up to watch his impervious features as she unzipped his impossibly tight pants and freed his stiff erection.

Shepard had never enjoyed giving this kind of pleasure to a man before Thane. He was _beautiful_. He'd laughed when she told him that, dismissing her admiration because apparently such brilliant colors were standard fare as far as drell were concerned.

But he was gorgeous. In sharp contrast to his green scales, he was a myriad of shades of violet and magenta, fading from the brightest at the curved tip to the deepest purple at the base. Subtle ridges rose from the thick vein cluster at his root. Shepard _knew_ what those ridges felt like and she bit her lip at the memory - Thane moving within her, heat blooming at her core as he continued his tortuously slow pace until she was mad with desire, straining beneath him and waiting for the right moment to take control.

She stroked him slowly and licked her lips. If he wasn't distracted now, he was going to be shortly.

Leaning in, she let out a hot breath over the tip of his arousal before flicking her tongue over it. Her hands pressed him up against his belly and she hummed softly as she mouthed the thick, sensitive vein at the base of his cock. His eyes fell closed for the briefest moment, despite his concentration.

She flattened her wet tongue against the underside of his shaft and took the head into her mouth. His skin here wasn't as velvety as a human's would have been, but it did become wonderfully slick with a little help from her saliva. She listened carefully to his gunshots, carefully counting the seconds between each one as she took him deep into her throat.

One... two... three... bang.

One... two... three... bang.

One... two... three... four... five... bang.

She smiled despite his length between her lips.

She was done with teasing, then. Such subtle hesitations from a man with as immense control as Thane were more rewarding than any reaction from a human partner. Her own desire was a white hot fire between her legs and she ached to rip the rifle from his hands and take him right there. Her own considerable self control told her it would be worth her while to get him worked up first - to strip him of all his discipline until he was left rough and wanting with only her to bear the brunt of his desires.

She sucked him in earnest, hollowing her cheeks, tongue flicking furiously at the sensitive underside of his cock

"Siha," he breathed, "mercy."

She chuckled around him - knew that he felt it when his knees gave just a little bit and she heard the dull thunk of his rifle hitting the shelf of the booth above her head. She wished she could see him, hands gripping the counter until his nails blanched while his breath came in short, ragged bursts. Any moment now he was bound to come undone, and when he did, oh...

He trembled for just a moment before going rigid, a quiet gasp hissing out between clenched teeth. She swallowed, squeezing the last drops from his spent arousal as she brushed the dust from her knees and rose to meet his eyes.

She didn't have to look downrange to know that his shots were scattered haphazardly across the target - a dozen or so smoking holes left from the gun of a distracted man well satisfied.

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Thank you for reading!

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